


Dean Winchester and the Curse of Erotic Somnambulism

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Curse Breaking, Cursed Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Guilt, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Oral Sex, Pining, Somnophilia, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: Dean starts getting in bed with Sam at night. For Sam, it's a dream come true... until he realizes Dean doesn't remember any of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not tagging this as a rapefic because if I was looking for a rapefic, this is not what I would want.   
> If you are sensitive to consent issues, this may not be a good fic for you.

Sam snapped awake with a jolt, his hand closing on the blade beneath his pillow. His other hand hit the lamp, filling the motel room with a dim orange light.

Dean was kneeling on the foot of his bed.

“Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me.”

Dean didn’t respond. He looked at Sam through hooded eyes. As Sam watched, he dropped onto all fours and crawled up the bed, his knees on either side of Sam’s body.

“…Dean?”

Dean gripped the hand holding the knife, pushing it firmly back against the mattress. Sam stared up at him in the gloom. His heart was beating out of his chest. He could feel the warmth coming off Dean’s skin, just centimeters from his own.

He dropped the knife, and it fell harmlessly back onto the other pillow.

Sam’s mind raced- there was no way this could be what he thought it was- what he _hoped_ it was. Dean’s face was only a few inches from his, but there was no way his brother was about to lean down and-

“Uh, Dean? You’re kinda crushing my junk.”

It wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t a lie, either. Sam could feel himself hardening inside his boxers; could feel it beginning to press up into the seam of Dean’s thigh. He thought he could pass it off as morning wood, Dean would go along with that. This had been a thing between them for a long time, they didn’t talk about it-

Dean leaned down and kissed him.

Sam’s surprised yelp was lost into the kiss, and then his hands were on Dean’s back, his hips, his hair, and Sam was grinding up against him. He could feel his brother’s cock in his sleep pants, hard and hot and long.

Sam rolled them over, pushing Dean’s pants down over his hips as he did, but Dean rolled them back, rising up and pinning Sam’s shoulders to the bed.

He ground his hips down into Sam’s cock and Sam groaned.

Dean crawled down Sam’s body, taking his boxers with him. Sam kicked them off while Dean shimmied out of his clothes.

He didn’t waste time. Within a few seconds, his mouth had closed over the head of Sam’s cock and he was _sucking,_ hot and wet and sloppy.

“Jesus fuck, Dean, just like that, _fuck-_ ”

Sam’s fingers tangled in Dean’s hair but Dean pushed them away. He pulled off Sam’s cock with a pop, leaving a slick spit trail behind. Sam didn’t have time to beg him to keep going- within a few seconds Dean was straddling him. He could feel the head of his cock pressing hard against Dean’s puckered hole.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sam asked quickly, but Dean didn’t respond. Instead he closed his eyes and dropped his hips, letting Sam’s cock press past the resistance of his body. His brow furrowed and he gasped, whether in pain or pleasure, Sam couldn’t tell.

Dean was impossibly hot and tight around him, his body spasming as it fought against the intrusion. He let himself sink, inch by inch, until his thighs were flush with Sam’s belly. He stayed there, trembling, cock half-hard between his legs.

And then he pushed himself up, letting Sam slide a few inches out of him before sinking back down again.

“S-slow down, Dean,” Sam managed, but Dean didn’t hear him, or didn’t respond. He just kept riding Sam’s cock, using it to fuck himself again and again. A thin sheen of sweat rose on his chest and belly, and Sam ran his fingers though it before taking Dean’s cock in his hand and stroking.

Dean whimpered, hardening almost instantly under the caress. He clamped down harder onto Sam as the younger man stroked him. Sam bit his lip, trying not to come so soon.

“You have to slow _down,_ man-” he started, but it was too late. He felt his cock pulsing, driving his come up into Dean’s ass.

Dean stopped moving almost instantly, slumping down over Sam’s body, just barely catching himself on his elbows.

And then he pulled off, Sam’s come dripping out of him in a wet mess.

“Hey!” Sam shouted, but Dean didn’t respond, instead taking the three steps across the room and tucking himself back into his own bed.

Sam lay there, wet and sticky and softening, and stared at him.

 

~~~~

 

They didn’t talk about it in the morning.

Dean woke up and stretched and rolled his shoulders.

He pushed the blankets back and Sam could see he was momentarily surprised to find himself naked. He glanced up at Sam with a rakish grin.

“See anything you like?”

Sam gaped, and Dean raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue.

He stood up unselfconsciously and walked into the bathroom buck naked.

Sam watched him go.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Dean naked. Occasionally he’d come in late after Dean’s _lady friends_ had left, only to find his brother in a post-coital haze, with only a thin motel sheet to protect his modesty.

And then, of course, there were the nightmares. They both had them. Awful, thrashing things, more than capable of knocking loose a pair of boxers or sweatpants.

They didn’t talk about those.

Still, Dean worked through his usual greasy breakfast fare with a distinctly preoccupied expression, which meant either he was having regrets about the night before, or there was something wrong with the car.

Sam didn’t get his answer until that night, when he once again woke to find Dean’s weight pinning him to the bed.

It was just as good as the first night; Dean faced the other way this time, and Sam watched mesmerized as the muscles of his shoulders and back and ass all worked in tandem, fucking himself on Sam’s cock until the younger man came inside him with a shout.

And then he went back to his own bed.

Silently.

 

~~~

 

After the fourth night in a row, Sam broke the ‘what happens in the dark stays in the dark’ rule and bought a bottle of lube. He was starting to chafe; he wasn’t sure how Dean was even staying upright.

That night when Dean climbed into his bed, he was able to distract him long enough to slick himself up. He offered the bottle to Dean, but it was like Dean didn’t even see it.

 

~~~

 

On the seventh day, it all fell apart.

It was driving Sam crazy. Every damn night Dean would wait for him to fall asleep and then get in his bed and ride him like it was his fucking _job._

And then he’d roll off and go back to his own bed. No words, no explanation- hell, Dean didn’t even get off on it.

Sam broke the silence in a hotel somewhere outside Chattanooga. They were holed up eating pad thai out of takeout containers and watching some shitty late night talk show, when Sam finally cleared his throat and said “so I was thinking we should do something different tonight.”

“Yeah?”

Dean wasn’t looking at him. He was half-watching the television and half-focused on juggling the takeout box and the bottle of beer.

“Yeah. So I was thinking maybe you should sleep in my bed.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“You wanna switch? Why?”

“No, not a switch. I mean, with me.”

Dean took a long slow sip of his beer.

“And why would I do that.”

“Well, just… because of what’s been happening. It just feels kinda… impersonal, you know? Weird.”

Dean regarded him very carefully.

“Sammy I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, but whatever it is, I ain’t sleeping in your bed.”

Dean took another gulp of beer and turned back to the television, signifying that the conversation was over.

Forty minutes later he was straddling Sam’s legs, taking Sam’s cock so deep into his throat that his nose was pressed against Sam’s pubes.

That’s when Sam started to realize something was really wrong.

 

~~~

 

It’s not that Sam didn’t want to tell him.

Whatever was going on, Dean seemed to have no memory or knowledge of any of it.

He didn’t know that he’d been fucking his little brother for more than a week now, but more importantly; he didn’t even know Sam _wanted to fuck him_ and that’s where the problem really lay.

Because a curse was a curse (it was a curse, they’d taken out a witch two days before this had all started) and it was an accepted hunter rule that you weren’t responsible for what you did while you were cursed.

Sam would have had no problem telling Dean that he’d climbed into Sam’s bed and made a move on him. It was just a curse. These things happen.

What Sam couldn’t figure out how to explain, was why he hadn’t _known_ it was a curse. Why he’d gone along with it, willingly, for more than a week now.

 

~~~

 

The best he could come up with was “we need to talk.”

Dean glanced away from the road, taking in Sam’s obvious discomfort.

“I told you that waitress in Tulsa was bad news. What do you want, pill or cream?”

“I’m being serious, Dean.”

“So am I, man. Don’t ignore that shit, it won’t go away on it’s own.”

“Do you remember having sex last night?”

Not as subtle as he was hoping, not as bad as he’d feared.

Dean was frozen with his mouth open, the next round of teasing seemingly caught on his tongue.

“… what?”

Sam stared resolutely out at the road, refusing to look at his brother.

“Going on ten days now,” he said hoarsely.

“You lost me,” Dean said. “I definitely have not had sex with anybody in the last ten days. I think I would remember.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d remember too.”

Dean blinked.

“Okay. Okay, so, this is a case. We’re getting laid every night, you remember, I don’t. So, obvious clue: who are we having sex with?”

Sam swallowed. Hard. Dean glanced over again, a note of panic touching his features.

“Sammy? Who are we having sex with?”

“Each other,” Sam whispered.

“Oh.”

Sam waited for him to continue. It took a long time.

“So, we just… ten days?”

“Yeah. You wake up and get in my bed and we just… go. And then you leave.”

“Oh.”

Sam watched the yellow lines sliding past. Anything to avoid looking at Dean. He knew what question came next- how could you let this happen. Why didn’t you stop it. Why didn’t you tell me. How could you.

“Did I… did I hurt you?” Dean asked at last. Sam blinked.

“No! Of course not!”

“Okay.” Dean shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Okay. So we’ll… we’ll get two rooms tonight. And we’ll figure out how to break this thing.”

Sam nodded. Two rooms was a good idea. He didn’t blame Dean for not wanting to share with him any more. Now that he knew.  

 

~~~

 

To make a long story short, it didn’t work.

 

~~~

 

To summarize, Dean woke up in Sam’s room, buck-naked and with a pounding bruise on his left shoulder.

Sam was sitting on his own bed, watching dejectedly. He didn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“You tried to break the door down,” he explained. “I, uh… I opened it before you could hurt yourself.”

“And we…” Dean gestured, unwilling or unable to finish the thought.

Sam nodded, looking down.

 

~~~

 

They spent the day reading up on spells. Love spells, sex spells, revenge spells, everything.

Sam didn’t miss the way Dean skipped his afternoon beer, opting again for a steaming black coffee from the gas station across the street.

He had another coffee with dinner, and when he thought Sam wasn’t looking, he palmed a little white pill and swallowed it.

Sam felt sick.

 

~~~

 

Dean didn’t go to sleep.

They’d abandoned the second hotel room, rather than risk Dean attacking the door again.

Sam had suggested a room in a different hotel, but Dean didn’t want to risk getting hit by a car while sleepwalking across town. Or worse, driving baby while unconscious.

When Sam laid down, Dean was sitting at the room’s little table, reading a lore book by the light of the dim overhead lamp.

When Sam woke up, Dean was still there.

There was another cup of coffee next to him.  

 

~~~

 

“Maybe you could tie me up?” Dean suggested.

He was running on thirty six hours without sleep, and it showed. His motions had slowed and Sam noticed he hadn’t turned the page of his book for at least twenty minutes.

“It might work,” Sam agreed hesitantly. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it might hold them over until they found something on the spell.

 

~~~

 

It didn’t work.

 

~~~

 

They had the materials to do it. Of course they did.

Dean fastened the handcuffs around his own wrists, and Sam chained them to the headboard, snapping a heavy padlock through the links. Dean watched him do it, his expression determined but exhausted.

He was asleep in less than five minutes. Sam stayed up to watch.

Before too long, Dean began to twist against his bonds. At first it looked like he was just shifting in his sleep, but soon his movements became desperate and frantic. He yanked at the chains, rattling them, and Sam could see the edges of the cuffs digging into his skin.

And then Dean began to seize, his back arching impossibly high as he thrashed, his body horribly contorted and his breath coming hard. He rolled, throwing himself to one side, and Sam’s heart dropped as he saw Dean’s shoulder wrenched almost hard enough to dislocate it.

Sam was on him in a second, pinning him to the bed, scrabbling for the key on the bedside table.

“I gotcha, don’t fight, don’t fight, I gotcha-”

Dean stilled under his weight, his eyes half-lidded as he watched Sam fumble with the cuffs. And then they dropped off and Dean was rolling them over, pinning Sam to the bed and kissing him deep.

“Dean, please,” Sam begged, staring up at him. Dean was rocking his hips down against Sam’s cock, getting him hard even as he protested. “Please, Dean, please wake up. I can’t do this to you, not again. Please.”

The lube was forgotten in Sam’s duffel so Dean took him dry, just a thick line of spit to ease the way. He threw his head back as he sank down, letting his hands rest on the bed beside Sam’s knees. His skin was taut and beautiful and Sam wanted to touch him, to stroke along the lines of his belly and thighs, to take that thick cock in his mouth and show Dean the same joy Dean had shown him-

The thought of it drove him over the edge and he came hard, his fingers digging into Dean’s hips.

 

~~~

 

Dean slept for more than twelve hours before he woke up and immediately realized the chains were missing.

Sam watched him over breakfast, bagels and single-serve cereal from the motel lobby. Dean stared at them with blank eyes.

“We got any coffee?”

 

~~~

 

Dean took three more of the little white pills and made it almost forty five hours. Sam slept twice in that time, both times awakening to find his brother exactly how he’d left him, save for the deepening circles under his eyes.

Sam didn’t know what to do. The lore books were coming up with nothing about somnophilia or erotic somnambulism or sexsomnia or any of that crap. Whatever voodoo the witch had laid on Dean, it was home brewed.

Sam watched him struggling, and when he eventually passed out, Sam carried him to bed and undressed him and waited for him to stir.

 

~~~

 

Dean didn’t drift out of sleep. His eyes were closed, and then they were open. He stared at the ceiling without moving, and with a sinking feeling, Sam realized he knew that expression.

It was the one he’d worn at the Mystery Spot, when he’d awakened again and again to realize his life was still the same living nightmare.

“Dean…”

Dean moved like lightning, taking hold of the cheap bedside lamp and hurling it across the room with a roar. Sam was on his feet in a second, ready to stop him before he smashed anything important.

But Dean was done. He made no move to go for anything else. Instead he drew his knees up, resting his elbows on them and burying his face in his hands.

“Next time I pass out, chain me up,” he said hollowly. Sam shook his head.

“I can’t. Your body is determined to escape, you’ll break your arm-”

“Then I break my arm!” Dean snapped, dropping his hands to glare at Sam.

Sam sighed, and sat at the end of the bed.

“How many times?” he asked wearily. Dean’s brow furrowed.

“What?”

“How many times do I let you break your arm?” Sam asked slowly. “You break it once, congratulations, you’ve delayed the spell by another night. We get the bone set and your arm casted and… then what? You hold out another day, maybe two, and then you fall asleep and you break it again. You can’t hunt with one arm perpetually broken.”

“Then we find some other restraints. Big wide straps or something-”

“Until something comes for us in the night.” Sam said dully. Dean’s jaw set.

He climbed out of bed, crossing the room naked and rummaging through his duffel. He drew out a black handgun and Sam’s eyes widened.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“We come up with another solution, or I do this,” Dean said, not turning around. “I can’t keep going like this.”

Sam balked.

“Is it really _that_ bad?” he asked quietly. “That you’d _kill_ yourself over it?”

“Of course it is!” Dean snapped. His voice was thick, but he still didn’t turn around. “Every time I close my eyes I think about it, I see myself crawling into your bed and pinning you down and… and doing that to you.” He wiped his face with the back of the hand holding the gun. “To be honest I’m kinda surprised you didn’t do it yourself.”

Sam swallowed.

“Give me the gun, Dean.”

Dean did look back at him then, a small smile on his face.

“You wanna go somewhere secluded?”

Sam reached out, beckoning.

“Just give me the gun.”

Dean complied, turning and handing the weapon over. Sam dropped the clip and checked the chamber, making sure it was unloaded. He tossed the clip back into the duffel and set the gun on the side table. And then he took a breath.

“I didn’t shoot you, because you weren’t pinning me down.”

Dean frowned at him, but Sam didn’t stop.

“The first time it happened, I had my knife. I dropped it when I saw it was you. And I didn’t pick it back up again. It was there, Dean. Right there. The whole time.”

“Then why didn’t you protect yourself?” Dean whispered. “Why did you let me-?”

Sam hesitated. This was the part of his confession he didn’t want Dean to have a gun for. He dropped his eyes, staring at the threadbare motel carpet.

“Because I wanted you to,” he said at last. “Because I’ve wanted you to for a long time.”

Dean said nothing. Sam was afraid to look at his expression. Afraid to see the hate and disgust and anger there.

“…you’re lying,” Dean said at last. Sam shook his head.

“That’s why it took me a week to figure out that you were cursed. I should have known something was wrong but I wanted it so _bad-_ ”

“You’re lying,” Dean said again, more forcefully than last time.

Sam did look up then, letting his eyes trail over his brother’s naked body for what was probably the last time. Dean’s face was a mask of shock.

“I never wanted you to know,” Sam said. “I should have known better, I shouldn’t have let it go on so long. Dean, I am _so_ sorry.”

Dean licked his lips.

“I wish I could remember,” he said. “If I’d known… and then to have it go down like this… and I don’t even remember our first time.”

“I tried not to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well, good on you there,” Dean replied, wincing at the memory of the morning after.

Sam glanced up at him.

“Technically, it was _my_ first time,” he said slowly. “Since for some reason, you never get off on any of it.”

“Figures,” Dean muttered.

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“It’s kinda… kind of a bummer actually,” he said cautiously. “Because it’s like you never get anything out of it… it’d be nice to return the favor, maybe.”

Dean stared at him. Sam resisted the urge to look away.

“Yeah?”

Sam nodded once.

“Yeah.”

 

~~~

 

Dean was already naked, so for him, it was a simple matter of laying back on the bed.

Sam had already dressed and gone for coffee, but it only took him a few seconds to strip down to his boxers.

He didn’t meet Dean’s eyes as he knelt on the bed between his legs. Sam kept his eyes on his hands, where they stroked over Dean’s body, feeling and caressing.

Dean said nothing, but Sam already knew the spots he liked- he had a week’s head start on his brother, and it wasn’t long before Dean’s cock was standing hard and ready between his legs.

Cautiously, he lowered his head, letting his tongue run up the underside of Dean’s cock. Dean moaned, a shiver running through him at the feeling.

That’s all the encouragement Sam needed, and he took the head fully into his mouth, stroking at the base with his hand as he did.

“God, Sammy-”

Dean’s hands were clenching in the sheets, his hips tilting ever so slightly to push deeper into Sam’s mouth. Sam let him, taking in as much as he could. It was a little more than half- he wasn’t exactly experienced at this. Dean didn’t seem to mind, and just kept moaning out encouragements and the occasional expletive.

After just a few minutes, Sam felt Dean’s hands in his hair, pushing back. He ignored them, giving Dean a little hum of acknowledgement as he continued sucking.

“Sam- you gotta stop, man, I’m gonna-”

The sentence finished in a rather self-explanatory way, and Sam felt spurts of hot, salty come hitting the back of his throat. He held it there, letting Dean finish before he pulled off and swallowed. Dean was staring up at him, wide-eyed.

“How long have you wanted me to do that?” Sam ventured cautiously. Dean hesitated.

“Since before you left for Stanford.”

Sam nodded.

“As good as you pictured?”

Dean shrugged.

“I’ve had worse.”

Sam hit him with a pillow.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

 

~~~

 

They slept in the same bed that night.

 

~~~

 

Dean didn’t move until morning.  

**Author's Note:**

> Eeehhhh.... I have nothing to add here. Yay another prompt done.   
> I signed up for NaNoWriMo because I hate myself and I want to suffer greatly.   
> I might wrote a novel or I might just write 50,000 works of kinkmeme fills.   
> Still editing On Sale... still need a new title. I am so rubbish at titles.   
> I'm gonna name the book "rubbish at titles."   
> That's it. That's the title. 
> 
> The smol bean is two inches long now. None of my pants fit and I had to go pants shopping which.... ugh.   
> Also I now have a full list of all the nutrients I'm horribly deficient in and if I don't get more lutein and DHA in my diet I am going to birth an actual literal troll. So sayeth the literature I got from the doctor yesterday.


End file.
